


Double Date

by watts



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, what even is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 19:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watts/pseuds/watts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I know you’re enjoying our date night."</p><p>“We both know who’s <i>really</i> on a date tonight.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Date

In hindsight, she probably should have known better than to assume that their skill sets would translate into being good at making pizza. But as it was, Natasha had (foolishly, she now realized) thought that Clint must know how to make pizzas when he suggested that she come over and make them with me. 

 

“What’s wrong with the pizza place by your building?” she had asked, an eyebrow raised and arms crossed. “I thought you said that place made the best pizza in the world.” Clint had shrugged, a grin on his face. 

 

“Maybe I decided that I already send too much of my paycheck their way. Besides, it’ll be fun! C’mon, you know you want to,” had been his reply, and she’d found herself agreeing to this – now she thought about it – inane idea for a date.

 

That’s all it should have been, really: a slightly ridiculous, clichéd date night. It would have been, if either of them had actually known what they were doing.

 

Somehow, they managed to muddle through making the dough, thought Clint came out of that adventure with a flour-covered face. In Natasha’s defense, Clint had brought that upon himself after tossing flour into her hair. 

 

“Now I know what you’ll look like when you go gray,” he’d protested, hands up in front of his face as he’d backed away from her. When he’d trapped himself in the corner of his small kitchen, Natasha had thoroughly enjoyed covering his face in flour until his eyelashes were coated white and he was spluttering.

 

After a very satisfying surrender from Clint, they’d gotten around to the really tricky part of their plan. 

 

Clint could boast all he liked about his hand eye co-ordination and ability to shoot a target without looking at it – and he had boasted a lot to her over the years – and, really, that just made it even more funny when he tossed a perfectly formed circle of dough up into the air and it promptly stuck to the ceiling. Natasha snorted with laughter and Lucky, who’d been following them around the kitchen since they’d started making pizza, promptly sat beneath the spot and waited with his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth, clearly hoping he might be as lucky as his name and have the dough fall neatly into his mouth.

 

“Oh you can laugh, but you haven’t tried it yet!” Clint said, gesturing to the dough on the counter and then crossing his arms, clearly waiting for Natasha to take her turn. 

 

Natasha picked up another circle of dough, more than ready to show Clint how it was done.

 

…And promptly put her hand through the thin mixture. Clint burst out laughing, and Lucky dived to her feet to get the scraps of dough that had fallen to the floor.

 

“It’s not my fault, you made the dough wrong,” Natasha said, adopting an indifferent expression and tossing her hair over her shoulder, which in turn sent up a little cloud of flour around her face. Lucky was still devouring the dough scraps and Liho, who’d been curled up in lounge away from the madness of making pizza, padded in to see what was going on. Lucky immediately lifted his head, letting the little cat make her way over to the spots of dough left on the floor. Natasha smiled as Liho’s little pink tongue darted out to lap at the dough, and then the cat sneezed, let out a disgruntled meow, and headed back through to the lounge. “See?” Natasha said, watching Liho walk away with a triumphant grin on her face – which was a contrast to Lucky’s forlorn expression – and then turning back to Clint. “Liho can tell that it’s not going to make good pizza.”

 

“We both made the dough, actually,” Clint retorted, shaking his head and going to move their last remaining pizza base onto a baking tray, “so you can’t pin this on me. Anyway, what are we putting on this? I’m not having any of your weird fruit pizza, so no pineapple,” he added before she could speak.

 

“Fine,” Natasha huffed, just as Lucky wandered past them to sit under the dough stuck to the ceiling again. “Then no sausage either! That’s so much worse than pineapple.”

 

Clint let out an incoherent grumble as he crossed the room to open the fridge. Peering inside and considering the few items of food inside, he relayed, “I can offer cheese. And bacon?”

 

“Please tell me that you’ve got the tomato sauce to put on it first,” Natasha said dryly, though she raised an eyebrow when Clint cursed under his breath and went to rummage through the cabinets. 

 

“I’ve got it!” he called out half a minute later, holding up the sauce and waving it proudly in the air, head still buried in the cabinet. Natasha shook her head, but the action was fond. 

 

“Oh good. Suspiciously old-looking sauce,” she deadpanned, but Clint just grinned as he set the jar down on the side and came over to stand in front of her.

 

“I know you’re enjoying our date night,” he said, a gleam in his eyes as his hands settled either side of her on the counter, boxing her in so that she was wedged between him and the cool edge of the countertop. 

 

“We both know who’s _really_ on a date tonight,” Natasha replied, just as Liho slunk back into the kitchen and sat down in front of Lucky. She lifted a paw and set it on the dog’s much bigger one, then let out a pitiful meow. Lucky let out a huff and flopped down onto his side, and Liho started to purr.

 

“Totally whipped,” Clint said, laughing as he watched the pair. “C’mon, finish making this pizza with me. I’ve got something good for us to watch while we eat it.”

 

“Please tell me that it’s not a stupid action movie,” Natasha replied, pushing one of his arms out of the way to go over to where he’d set the pizza base on a tray. Opening the silverware drawer, she took out a spoon and then – after shooting Clint a look that just dared him to tease her about knowing her way so well around his kitchen – expertly began to spread the sauce over the dough. Clint brought over cheese and bacon, and together they managed to assemble a pizza that didn’t actually look half bad. Clint slid the tray into the oven, and then leaned over to Natasha to ruffle her curls, sending flour into the air all around her head. 

 

Somewhere in the middle of the ensuing flour fight Clint managed to kiss her, and the fifteen minutes they had to wait until their pizza was ready was spend quite pleasantly. Natasha found herself perched on the flour-covered kitchen counter with Clint’s mouth on her neck when the timer dinged, and she let out a little noise of frustration. 

 

“Aw, c’mon,” Clint protested, giving her one last kiss before pulling away to attend to the oven. “Don’t you want to see our masterpiece?” He took the tray out of the oven, but as soon as he got a good look at their pizza the smile fell from his face.

 

Natasha had no idea what they’d done wrong. At first she thought they must have burnt it, but the pizza was only black around half of its edge. Parts of it looked completely uncooked, cheese not melted and bacon still raw. It had somehow sagged in the middle, and Natasha found herself thinking longingly of the pizza they usually ordered in.

 

“Uh.” Clint seemed at an utter loss, and the absurdity of it all hit Natasha. She spluttered with laughter, and soon enough Clint joined her, laughing so hard that he had to set the pizza down on the counter to avoid dropping it. 

 

“Should’ve known we wouldn’t manage anything vaguely domestic,” Natasha said when she could breathe again, grinning over at Clint. They cut up the pizza, then Clint slid it onto a plate and led her through to the lounge, Lucky and Liho at her heels. “What are we watching?” Natasha asked. 

 

“Well, I know you were away for the season finale,” Clint said, and Natasha’s eyes widened. 

 

“Did you record Dog Cops for me?” she asked, settling down on the couch and gently pushing Lucky away when he sat in front of her, snout resting on her knee and eye looking at her imploringly.

 

“I even waited to watch it with you,” Clint said proudly, scrolling through the menus until he found the episode he was looking for. Lucky, realizing that he wouldn’t be getting any pizza right now, seemed to recognize the program showing on the tv and lay down on the floor with his head on his paws. Liho lay down beside him, licking at his fur for a moment before mimicking his pose.

 

After an attempt to eat their disgusting pizza Clint took pity on Lucky and put the plate on the floor. The dog seemed far less picky than they were, and almost inhaled a few slices in his eagerness to eat the food before they changed their minds. Natasha rearranged herself to rest her head in Clint’s lap while he pulled out his phone and ordered them a real pizza.

 

Just as they settled down to focus on the show again, there was the faint sound of something falling to the floor in the kitchen. Immediately Lucky stood up, abandoning the pizza he’d been given and bounding through to pizza dough that had finally dropped from the ceiling.

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him run like that,” Natasha said, voice laced with amusement. Clint was leaning off the couch, head inches from the floor as he called out to Lucky, 

 

“Dog, what’re you doing? You’ve got your own pizza here, why’re you eating dough?” He sounded exasperated, but swung himself back onto the couch just as Liho meandered out to the kitchen. 

 

“Don’t worry,” Natasha said, patting Clint’s thigh as she resettled her head in his lap. “His date will keep him in check.”


End file.
